


Stick A Needle In My Eye

by priggishbitch



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, POV Arya Stark, Reunion, a little bit of sansa scheming with gendry, arya stark/gendry - Freeform, arya/gendry reunion, but thats neither here nor there, his last name isn't waters because he's not an acknowledged bastard, its called ptsd karen, she mad, she's also nuts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-04 16:50:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15845388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priggishbitch/pseuds/priggishbitch
Summary: "The Great War is coming and Arya is heading South. She has plans to finish this war before it even begins. Gendry has just come to Winterfell, and he won't ever let her out of his sight again."So, I've never written GOT fanfiction before but I've been feeling #inspired, lately I guess. This is less of a fully fleshed out story, more bits and pieces of a full, more in depth story that I may or may not finish later. I already have the first five or so chapters written. If you wanted me to post more let me know!





	1. Chapter 1: The One With The Reunion

It was him.

He had offered an awkward nod of a bow to Sansa.

It. Was. Him.

He was here. In her place. In her home, looking around in wonder like he had any right to be here. In her home. She thought she was going to be sick. There was no point in staying here to greet these men, she really didn’t care enough. She had turned to walk away when he finally caught sight of her.

He called her name, just the once, in a sick, hoarse voice.

“Arya? Where are you going?” Sansa called only seconds after he had, “Wait, how do you know my sister?”

That was all she heard as she descended into the bowels of Winterfell. She hadn’t gone done there to pray or see her father. She had gone down there to hide. She wanted to laugh at herself. 

“You were a faceless man,” she whispered to herself, “You’re brave. Fearless to the point of reckless, but one stupid boy sends you scurrying away? Ridiculous.”

But she didn’t go back up anyway. Just in case. She wandered down into the cavernous space, down crooked rickety stairs, through pitch black hallways carrying no torch. There was nothing to fear here. By the time she decided to ascend, she was deeper than she’d ever ventured before, fears satiated by the empty. If she could walk down here, alone, with no guide and no light, she could surface.

She was blinded momentarily as she exited, the sound was overwhelming after the intense, ringing silence below. Between the rebuilding of Winter Town outside of the granite walls, the stonemasons rebuilding the parts of the Keep that had fallen during the sack by the Boltons, the bustle of preparing for winter, and the general sounds that were part of a castle, it was almost never silent here. It never had been. Not even before. She noted, to her immense relief, that Sansa had moved the party into the receiving hall of the guest house, and started to walk.

She was still so angry. Wasn’t he supposed to be dead? He had NO right to show up here, in her home, all short-haired and tall and… and alive! Who did he think he was? She decided suddenly to seek out a sparring partner in the new Training Yard. Someone to fight, someone to hit… She was searching still when, who would appear again, in her space, still, talking to another smith, looking over a sword. She watched him then, for a moment. She watched as he weighted the sword in one hand before pointing it upward and looking up it’s length. He seemed satisfed, the smug bastard, as he handed it back.

He’d gained confidence since she’d known him, carried himself bigger and taller. Taking up too much space. The height difference would be more pronounced than ever, which only added to make her angrier. He was wearing some dirty yellow tunic that looked well and carefully made, which she assumed meant he’d done fairly well for himself, wherever he had gone.

 

She was startled when he glanced over at her, looking as if he’d known she was there the whole time, a smirk on the corner of his mouth. He turned away to hand the sword to the other smith and before he’d turned back, she had fled. She had run. Gods be good, she had actually run away from him. She’d taken off to the Godswood, not bothering to look around, like a damnable child. Seven hells. Arya’s face flamed cherry red, so hot it actually hurt. What is wrong with her, she wondered, and why was she acting like this?

 

She’d settled to lay back on the floor of the warm, humid glass gardens, using her furs as a pillow when he found her and blocked her exit.

“Let me out.” She swore with a calm menace, she would run him through if he kept her trapped. Wolves don’t like to be cornered.

“I just wanted to talk to you. Please. Someone told me I would find you here.”

Sansa. Sansa was the only one who knew that she’d like to hide here, that spoiled, red-haired twat. Arya would never have betrayed her, told someone about Sansa’s favorite places. Not that Sansa was ever unladylike enough to hide from people.

“Then talk,” she was angrier now, “and then let me out.”

His frown was etched into his face like it was carved from stone, and he started at her with big, watery blue eyes. Pathetic. 

“I thought you were dead,” it was almost a whisper, “I thought that the Brotherhood had taken you to Riverrun and let you get slaughtered with your family and I thought it was my fault because I wasn’t there to protect you, like I’d promised I would be.”

“Well, lucky, then that I’m not, they didn’t, I didn’t, and I wasn’t. I don’t need protecting, I never did. Especially not from you. Fantastic, now that that’s all cleared up, I’d like to go.”

“You’re right. You never did need it.” He said that like he knew anything about her. He had no clue who she was. “Arya...”

She cut him off and tried to walk around him. This conversation was over.

He grabbed her wrist as she reached for the door and something reared inside her. The wolf, she thought, the Faceless Man, maybe, whatever it was, it was fierce and dark and angry. She maneuvered him and pulled him and somehow he’d ended up on the ground with her dagger pressing a tiny, red ribbon into his throat and her knee digging into his sternum.

 

“Do not ever presume to grab me again or I’ll leave you with something worse than a scratch or a bruise.” She stood then, sheathed the curved blade and made to leave.

As she moved away, she swore she heard a quiet laugh. She swore she’d heard, “Well that wasn’t very ladylike.” But she didn’t turn back.


	2. The One with the Scheming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of an inbetween from the last chapter and the next. Sorry it's short but this was intended to come after the next chapter, but the next chapter is giving me problems, even if i have the next three after that written. forgive me.

“Do you have it memorized? You’ll ruin it if you don’t remember.” Sansa had been pressing him for a fortnight when she’d learned about him and Arya. She’d made a ridiculous vow to help him get back into Arya’s good graces. She’d developed a plan. It wasn’t subtle, exactly, but it might work.

She’d been helping him to memorize the Oath of Fealty that he was meant to pledge to Arya in front of all the lords of the north. She won’t be able to refuse! Sansa had promised. She knows her courtesies, at least. Mother made sure of that. Well, no, the Septa had. She’ll be trapped.

He’d run out of time to do it, his nerves made it harder. She was leaving tomorrow morning for some task she’d been set upon by the King. Or something. He didn’t have details. But he was going to protect her. Or at the least, accompany her. 

“I know it.” He promised her. He couldn’t help but notice how pretty Sansa was, though she looked so little like Arya. Her long hair, and fine features, she was thin and tall, and graceful. He’d seen another thin, tall, graceful red head once. He didn’t think he’d trust one ever again, but here he was. 

“Then why do you look as if you’re about to empty your stomach on my favorite dress?”

“I didn’t eat,” he reminded her, setting his hand on the new scar on his throat, “I’m afraid she’s going to stab me, m’lady.”

Sansa had smirked then, “Well, that just a risk you’ll have to take.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to do my best to finish chapter 3 tonight or tomorrow and will post it when it's done.


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